Caring to the End
by Milli Moi
Summary: When I heard a podcast episode talking about those who helped men through the early days of HIV and AIDS I knew that one character fits this description better than any other. September 1983, When it comes to nursing, a patient should not be judged on their situation, they should be treated with the best of care even when others around them don't believe it.


The door opened with a slight squeak, it felt like it had been squeaking for months but she knew that was only a representation of how long this had all been happening. It had been months since the first man was diagnosed, and so many had taken up the disease already. Some were calling it a punishment - the fact that it was only infecting men with a certain lifestyle - and she was almost glad that she no longer lived in a house full of very religious people. She didn't want to blame them, the religious types, everyone was scared, living on the edge and waiting for the call to say a loved one had died.

She had sat with one today, a man who they all knew had hours left. He was sleeping most of the time, his breathing ragged and lips dry and cracked. She had watched his partner Colin tidying every inch of their small home and that had struck a nerve. That is what she would do.

They knew so little about the disease, knew almost nothing other than that is was viral - meaning there was almost nothing to be done. They thought it was sexually transmitted, but they couldn't be sure. That's why she had taken to keeping clean clothes at the front door, taking off all that could have come into contact with the patient before going any further. She had seen how cruel this was close enough, she wasn't sure she could live with seeing it any closer to home.

She was buttoning a clean shirt when a voice behind her brought her out of her thoughts for the first time since leaving the home of Colin and James.

"How are they?"

Delia stood huddled in a dressing gown. She hadn't realized how late it was - gone nine. Instantly she was overcome by the need to wrap her arms tight around her, breathe in her scent. She was here, she was safe, they were so lucky.

"I don't think Colin has long, hours perhaps, I gave James the telephone number - in case he passes overnight. I said I would be over first thing."

"Oh, Pats,"

The softness in Delia's voice was enough, emotions began to flood her and she let the tears fall from her cheeks for the first time that day. Silent tears, tears that were giving up all hope.

She allowed herself to walk over the doorway between the little front porch and the hallway in the house, The threshold that had become their infection control in the past few weeks. They had rarely used the front door and now it was exclusively used as a cordon between the disease and their lives.

She stepped into the arms of the girl who loved her more than life itself, closing her eyes to feel her hands wrap around her waist. She shivered as she felt Delia's cheek momentarily rest on hers before it was replaced by her soft lips. Patsy's eyes fluttered open, she pulled back to protest but Delia simply shook her head.

"There's been news, love."

Patsy allowed herself to be led through to the kitchen where the newspaper sat folded in the center of the table. They had never been the type to pay huge attention to newspapers but since the virus had started to spread so rapidly it had become one of the better ways to keep up. Patsy would often take one to her patients - those that were on their own and couldn't get out. She was one of the only nurses in the district willing to visit HIV patients at home, and there were a few she also saw off the record. These tended to be those men who were married, those pretending to be in love with a woman who, in reality, they had no interest in.

Delia unfolded the paper, skimming to page three - it was big news then - and urged her to sit down on one of the wooden chairs while she crossed the floor and flicked the switch on the kettle.

There it was. A statement from the American Center for Disease Control:

"AIDS is caused by an agent that is transmitted sexually or, less commonly, through contaminated needles or blood. There has been no evidence that the disease was acquired through casual contact with AIDS patients or with persons in population groups with an increased incidence of AIDS. AIDS is not known to be transmitted through food, water, air or environmental surfaces."

Patsy could have lifted off the ground in the weight taken from her shoulders. They were safe, oh thank God they were safe. She instantly moved from her chair, across the floor and wrapped her arms around her partner, kissing her, releasing all the fear they had felt for months.

"Steady on," Delia laughed, but there was a glint in her eyes also.

"It's not going to touch us. We'll get through it, we just have to be there for-,"

"For those that can't." Patsy finished the sentence, her elation disappearing fast.

They knew so many men who were suffering. They had been sickened to go to funerals with only a handful of people giving their support. This disease, this virus, it was doing far more than killing people, it was killing trust and relationships. It was outing people who would never have suffered otherwise, who would have pretended the way they did. At least Delia and she could go home and close the door. They could be themselves without a vile disease telling the world who they truly were.

Her thoughts went to the room upstairs, to the little office that had been slowly overcome by a cot, tiny knitted jumpers, and nappies.

"How's Alexander, did he go down well?"

Delia smiled,

"He did, he's getting good at climbing out of that cot though, I had to put him back twice. I may know how to handle a newborn but toddlers,"

Patsy found her self laughing a little before she remembered. Colin had been talking about the little boy - it was a fever dream, she was sure, but he still remembered.

Alexander was his son, nearly eighteen months old now. Colin had been having an affair with James for years - when his wife found out their son was almost a year. She had never been the mother type and with the stress of the whole situation, she had abandoned her son and husband to emigrate over to America. Colin had begun to show symptoms not long after. It had been Delia's idea for them to take the little boy, give the couple time together and avoid the little man having to see all of this. It didn't matter that he wouldn't remember any of it, it just hurt that he also would be unlikely to remember his father at all. They weren't sure if Alexander would go to live with James after his father passed, if not then he would continue to live with them. Delia had claimed he was her nephew, that his mother was ill and she had taken him on. When people asked more she had simply said his mother Bronwyn only spoke Welsh - preventing any further prying.

"He mentioned Alexander today. A dream I think, he was upset by it." Patsy paused for a moment, before continuing to recount the experience.

"He was recounting the whole thing - with his wife - it must be so horrid for James to hear that."

Delia said nothing, simply handing over the freshly made cup of tea and letting a moment pass.

Patsy sipped the hot liquid from the cup - starting to realize she was hungry and hadn't eaten since breakfast. It was long hours, but she had a duty to these people.

It took her back to her childhood, reminded her of a woman she had admired so heavily in the camp. She had taken the time to treat a bad infection in the foot of one of the Japanese men. It wasn't their battle either, it was those with higher power who put them all in that camp. And it was those with higher power who put all gay people at risk of this horrible death sentence.

The telephone began ringing in the hallway. Patsy took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a second before going to answer it. It was Colin's time, she knew it would be, he had fought hard but it was inevitable. All she could do was keep caring, keep helping and fighting and pray that one day in the future they might see an end.


End file.
